She doesn't wonder about the differences - he's not the Bruce she watched obsess over the fine details of his board of directors. Instead, she makes a quiet noise in the back of her throat, acknowledging noncommittally.

"Yeah, you don't seem the type."

When she spots the car, Selina shakes her head as she whistles. "At least you still have a sense of style." When they reach it she stops, pulling her arm from his so she can face him, leaning against the Benz. "Where you headed?"

It's her way of making herself clear: just because she's back doesn't mean things will go back to the way they were.